Space Balls, or “My god, it’s full of stars…”

SO, this is pretty much the ballsiest thing I’ve heard in a while:

Soderbergh doing some work on 2001: A Space Odyessy

Couple of thoughts:

1) Nice to see someone grown up and self possessed enough to both wait and then act on the impluse.
2) Technology. Am I right? All of the film was available to me within about a minute within the post… how did we get here?
3) It’s probably time to watch the movie with my kids.


Just read Russell Davies’ post which, among many other things, makes a glancing reference to William Gibson’s latest book Zero History.

Truthfully, Davies post is explicitly him throwing some ideas out there trying to jumpstart an article for Wired. But I wanna focus on something that jumped out at me reading it, around his notion of the lack of futureness. Because I think that’s something that Gibson touches on in Zero History, which to me is a book about, as much as a work of fiction can be about anything, authenticity. So maybe not so much a lack of futureness but a lack of interest in futureness.

I mean, just look at the title. If something has no history or more accurately is at the start of its history, (the zeroth index to get all programmery for a sec), it has also no marks of ownership, no credentials, no provenance. To borrow directly from the moment in the book where Milgram is observing a couple of tourists in new clothes, no patination.

So to me the renewed focus on the worn, the old, the analog (i.e.; the cafes with blackboards Davies mentions) is about patination, and leaving our own traces. It’s not that there’s no futureness, it’s that we’re having a reaction to it. Our way of knowing about our world was by our immediate senses. A pair of jeans that were faded and worn indicated that, well, they’d been well worn, and the level of wear and tear and a still pant-like garment indicated that those were some strong jeans. They could hold up. They were good pants. Now y’never know. They were probably bought pre-worn, faded and washed, (again, this to me is 1/2 the point of the novel) bestowing on the wearer a semblance of a) having really good jeans and more importantly b) living a life that was out there getting your jeans all beat to shit.

Same goes for our ‘things’. If you’re upgrading an iPhone every two years, you’re really just cashing in (aside from the utility) on the iPhone cachet of being a good device. There’s nothing there that says you’re a person who really uses the thing in any meaningful way. In fact it’s arguable that most people don’t need half the functionality of the iPhone. Until they get one, at which point they change themselves to be iPhone users… which is the complete flip flop of the other relationship.

And there is no history to an iPhone. Without sitting down and showing someone the apps you’ve installed, the texts you’ve sent, etc, it’s just the same as everyone elses. Usually fairly well preserved and identical aside from the case to every other one. Which is why I told a friend who had a minor crack in the screen of her’s to just leave it as is. It still works, and it shows that she owns the phone, it is a little bit of patination.

So we’re left with things that increasingly show no signs of our passing, from zero to the nth index of our days. A valid response to this is to let them patinate, enjoy the patination. Seek things which age and chip and show signs of our use. That we were fucking here. That someone’s hand was probably scraped and burnt and there were caustic chemicals and high temperatures used to make it. Blackboards with ghosts of yesterdays menus, hand crafted leather goggles with brass fittings, home cast percentile dices cufflinks. Whatever.

It dovetails with the Maker movement nicely too: technology in our time. Not cosmic time. Not tiny tiny computer flip-flop time. OUR time. Our time, which we pass through or make or whatnot. Our time to spend how we choose and which only exists as what we remember. We live in the past as we plan for the future. It’s by looking back on our passage that we can correct, improve, amend, grow a sense of who we are. We don’t exist in the future. Now, we can blindly go in search of strange signifiers of experience (preworn jeans?) or get a nice crisp pair of our own and see what they end up looking like in a year..


Catching up on my reading after vaca, reading Coding Horror :: The Xanadu Dream reminded me it’s time for my yearly re-reading of:

Wired Mags 1995 article..

Truly this, and the book Dreaming in Code: Two Dozen Programmers, Three Years, 4,732 Bugs, and One Quest for Transcendent Software are two of my favorite non-techie non-fiction reads about software.

All Tomorrow’s Parties

This was forwarded to me by @igzelesko:

One thing that hit me as I was watching it, and this may be a sign of my as yet undestroyed socialist/cyber Marxist tendencies: the bit about 42% of americans saying they’d pay for ad free tv scares the crap out of me.

And not because I’m in advertising, but because without a strong goverrnment support of the commons, and an equally strong cultural commitment, we’re a bunch of pigs suckling at the mugwumps waiting for the next purple ass baboon for motorcyclists to be coordinated. (you might want to google some of that last bit. I think I just went off the rails)

I mean, not that ”Mad Men” or “dance your a** off” constitute great cultural treasures but we’re losing the commons. But if everything must be increasingly directly commoditized – which means you get an even larger degree of class distinction and cultural tension as what was once pretty much free (broadcast tv, access to sesame street and news; the newspaper picked up on the train, radio) is pretty much scarce.

What happens then? When you have to pay for EVERYTHING directly.

Nothing that I’m saying is new, and I haven’t really thought it out, but I think somehow it just really clicked home how truly, clearly MEANINGFULLY different tomorrow looks. I’ll be reading P K Dick and Gibson to prepare myself. Probably some Doctrow (Cory) too. Syllabus to follow under separate cover.

Posted via email from David’s posterous

This is the Modern World

A presentation from Webstock via O’Reilly Radar:

The Demon-Haunted World.

Delving into the networked, invisible environment we live in, and increasingly REALLY live in, as in, it isn’t a layer upon the world, but the water in which we swim.

Why am I writing about this?:

  1. Blogjects!
  2. Introduced me to the Archigrams group.
  3. Fascinated with psychogeography, and the Situationist’s in general.
  4. Has a reference to ‘walking cities’, which is previsioned IN PASSING in Hodgman’s The Night Lands
  5. Reading a pot-boiler called Daemon right now that dovetails nicely with this… but in a less benign way.

Goodbye Sister Disco

What are you doing?

Why are you doing it?

And how?

What am I talking about?
Two articles. Sterling’s (first), rant about the web 2.0 thing. Not fair to call it a rant. He paraphrases Kant, Marx, probably Debord, and I don’t know who else… this piece needs rereading. Because he’s saying something.

Second link: a dissertation. I think it falls short of what it should be, but I understand that — writing a thesis is a bitch. ‘Bout Cali, and the generative attitudes of the world we live in today. Worth thinking about because we need to know how we got here. And if we like it.